


Photograph

by berryboys



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryboys/pseuds/berryboys
Summary: Sicheng renders him speechless, with his red cherry lips and his twinkling eyes, and Yuta hates him so much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened because of this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2b1E-zu-QEM), which was also used for the title.  
> My first yuwin with them as a main pairing?? I hope not the last one?  
> Betaed by [koshitsu_kamira](http://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira), expert at hating my characters lol

“Don’t take pics of me.”

 

Taeyong scrunches his nose at him, displeased, but Yuta doesn’t give into his request. It was Taeyong who bought the camera for him, anyhow, something that he regretted almost in the span of a week. Yuta didn’t have enough money for it, and yes, it was true that he had a thorn in his side: he renounced to study the major, renounced his dream, and sometimes he felt like he would never have enough money to even start. Taeyong had given him that little chance to at least enjoy his passion by himself, no need to attend classes, because it was likely that Yuta would never have another way to do it. It felt odd, the camera between his hands. It felt _too_ right.

 

“Am I not supposed to use the gift?” Yuta challenges him, eyebrows raised. He puts it down, however, when Taeyong glares at him from behind his bowl of cereal, and ruffles his hair to calm him down.

 

“Yes. But why _on_ me?”

 

Yuta shrugs, and answers with honesty, “You’re the prettiest thing around here.”

 

Even if Taeyong scoffs, his stance has changed now, the frustration and the annoyance fading away at the compliment. “How cute. You will make Jaehyun sad if he hears you.”

 

 

 

 

Taeyong has always been his life saver, and after so many years, he still is. Yuta met him during the last year of high school, when he moved from Japan because his father had lost his job. Unable to support him economically, to feed him like a teenager should be fed, his parents sent Yuta to live with his aunt, and it was _hard_. Yuta couldn’t speak anything except his mother tongue, and on top of that, he was horrible at studying, so both his social skills and his marks became a mess.

 

Taeyong had taken care of him from day one, just like he took care of everyone else around him. It was a miracle he could speak a bit of Japanese, because that helped Yuta not to be in panic all the time, lost in school. Taeyong was patient, taught him basic Korean and a bit of English, and let him cry on his shoulder when he missed his parents. Once out of school, when Yuta was too old to keep living off his aunt, Taeyong offered him to live with him, and convinced his own parents to hire Yuta so that he could work at one of the restaurants they owned.

 

Yuta’s life wasn’t, isn’t and won’t be exemplary. But it would be much worse without Taeyong.

 

 

 

 

Contrary to the first impression Jaehyun gives off, he’s still a child, sometimes borderline a brat. Nevertheless, Yuta likes that, the balance he finds in his roommates: while Taeyong is responsible and caring, Jaehyun is rather innocent, way too laid back. At first, Yuta didn’t like the idea of having another roommate, but Jaehyun needed a room and Taeyong was too nice to leave one of his classmates on the street.

 

The situation changed as Yuta got under Jaehyun’s skin. Yuta loves Jaehyun, not in a romantic way, but Jaehyun knows how to cheer him up, knows when he shouldn’t _ask_ , just act. Jaehyun ignores his past, how pitiful he has been, how he’s Taeyong’s charity work. He’s the brother Yuta doesn’t have, and when one of them fucks up, they often work together to hide it from Taeyong and avoid a good scolding.

 

Only two weeks have passed since the last time Jaehyun got into trouble, when he punched one of his teachers in the face during an individual tutoring session. In Jaehyun’s defense, the man had put his hands on places he shouldn’t have, and Yuta was disposed to ruin his life except Jaehyun begged him to help him to reach an agreement instead.  Yuta wasn’t sure if it was because he feared the man’s power, or because if the information had reached Taeyong’s ears, the issue would have blown up.

 

Since it’s such a recent event, Yuta expects Jaehyun to not bring more problems for a while. He does, however. Yuta realizes right in the moment Jaehyun shows up at home, frenetic eyes looking for him, the greeting forgotten on his lips. He grabs him by the arm, under Taeyong’s curious stare, and drags Yuta to the room. It doesn’t matter that Yuta yelps and complains that Jaehyun can’t interrupt his meal like that: Jaehyun closes the door behind them, excited, and Yuta suspects he ran all the way home, because he’s out of breath, nearly panting.

 

Jaehyun doesn’t even give him time to ask before announcing, “He’s back in Seoul.”

 

“He _who_?”

 

“Sicheng,” Jaehyun replies, but that name means nothing to Yuta. It takes Jaehyun several seconds to relax and realize how nonsensical he’s being; if he looked emotional a second ago, now he seems confused and nervous. “Sicheng is… I don’t know how to explain.” Frowning, he stares at Yuta as though he can discover the right words in his friend, and then declares, “He was very important to me.”

 

Yuta senses what Jaehyun is talking about, but he doesn’t jump to conclusions. “Why is it a secret?”

 

“Taeyong won’t like the story.” Jaehyun pauses for a moment, as to check if Taeyong is close to the room and can overhear them. But Taeyong wouldn’t, even if it’s very worrisome that Jaehyun has stormed into the house and isolated both Yuta and himself, away from Taeyong. “So we’re not telling him. But I’m telling you.”

 

Then, Jaehyun starts telling the story.

 

 

 

 

Yuta meets Sicheng on a cold night of December. The boy is huddled inside his own coat, too big for his delicate frame, hands lost in his pockets, waiting for them under the neon lights of Myeongdong.

 

Jaehyun runs towards Sicheng like a kid, leaving Yuta behind, and embraces him so hard that they crash against the window of a shop. Sicheng returns the hug, but his enthusiasm isn’t as intense as Jaehyun’s; his laughter, however, is beyond beautiful, louder than the noise of the city and the voices of the people passing by. Sicheng has dark hair and sparkling eyes; he owns the facial features of a child, but also obscene lips.

 

Allowing them to have their moment, Yuta slows down, but after a few more steps Sicheng’s gaze falls on him. Jaehyun still has him in his arms, and it’s Sicheng who breaks the hug first, observing Yuta, perhaps considering that this display of affection is rude in front of Jaehyun’s friend.

 

“Yuta, right?” he greets, and Yuta freezes at the sweetness of his voice. It’s not overly soft, it has the right amount of maturity and gentleness, a bit of clumsiness. Like a boy who has recently gone through his voice changes and isn’t used to have a deep tone. “Jaehyun told me you have been taking care of him.”

 

In other circumstances, Jaehyun would be embarrassed about having said such thing. However, he’s too immersed in Sicheng’s halo, eyes stuck on him like the boy would dissipate if he loses sight of him. Yuta finds it funny, but a whisper inside his head warns him how dangerous that is.

 

“I try,” Yuta answers at last, showing his best smile despite how blurry his thoughts are. Sicheng grins back at him, so warm, so full of life, and Yuta gathers the courage to continue, “It’s not an easy task when it comes to Jaehyun.”

 

 

 

 

Yuta needs exactly five minutes to realize: Jaehyun is still in love with Sicheng.

 

He doesn’t understand how Jaehyun can be such a fool, how he can tell Yuta he had his heart broken by his ex-boyfriend and then, days later, introduce him to Yuta with that expression of pride in his face. Yuta suspects he’s looking for his approval, holding Sicheng’s hand when there’s no one around but glancing at Yuta with eyes that say _he’s not that bad, is he_? Yuta can’t do anything for his friend at that moment, because love is blind, and blind love is unstoppable.

 

Sicheng indulges him. He allows Jaehyun to caress him, to intertwine their fingers, to compliment him and whisper how much he has missed him. But Sicheng locks eyes with Yuta from time to time, a silent message, and Yuta doesn’t feel like an intruder, because Sicheng definitely doesn’t love Jaehyun back.

 

 

 

 

The good part is that Sicheng is rather self-sufficient. He doesn’t need a place to stay, he doesn’t need counseling or help to get a job, and he never calls Jaehyun first. But that is also concerning, in Yuta’s opinion, because Jaehyun seems to have lost any trace of self-esteem, always predisposed to convince Sicheng to meet, skipping classes and lying to Taeyong.

 

Yuta doesn’t understand why Sicheng accepts it, since the right thing would be to reject the invitations, to close the door in front of Jaehyun’s face and push him away. Yes, it would hurt him, but it would be better than allowing Jaehyun to develop this unhealthy obsession, this dependency towards him.

 

Despite the attempt to hide Sicheng from Taeyong and dodge the consequent scolding, Taeyong picks up the hints. Yuta sees it coming from miles away, because Taeyong is way too smart and, overall, sensible. However, he does expect Taeyong to be cautious about it; instead, his friend corners Jaehyun one night he arrives especially late. Yuta is already in his pajama, after a busy day at the restaurant, but not even the tiredness makes him miss the contented glint in Jaehyun’s face, his reddened cheeks and the subtle smile on his lips.

 

“Who is the boy?” Taeyong questions him, no trace of shame as he glares at Jaehyun. Then, he spins around to stare at Yuta for a moment, disappointment on his features. “You know him, right? Why does Yuta know him but not me?”

 

Jaehyun stands at the door, not daring to step further into the living room, probably pondering how he can lie this time. “There isn’t any _boy_ ,” he murmurs, gaze dropping to the floor, as if Taeyong will guess the truth otherwise. “He’s an old friend.”

 

Skeptical, Taeyong clicks his tongue. “Then what’s the issue? You are hiding him.”

 

“There isn’t any issue, hyung, I promise,” Jaehyun whispers, but he sounds so soft, so weak, that no one would believe him.

 

“ _Jaehyun_ ,” Taeyong calls him, and as he approaches him, he reaches out to tap his chin so that Jaehyun looks up and into his eyes. “Do you think I’m not capable of directly asking him?”

 

For some reason, the idea of Taeyong talking to Sicheng is very disturbing. But it’s even more disturbing that Yuta has the need to protect Sicheng from that confrontation; he’s barely acquainted with Sicheng and his ways, yet Yuta doesn’t have the heart to blame him for having Jaehyun this affected, not enough to send Taeyong after him.

 

Maybe that’s why, upon Jaehyun’s silence, a mark of his loyalty to Sicheng, Yuta is the one to reveal the secret, “It’s his ex.”

 

“Yuta!” Jaehyun protests, betrayed.

 

It doesn’t matter anymore, because Taeyong has his mouth open in surprise, mildly horrified too. Taeyong could snap at Jaehyun for being an idiot, but he doesn’t; he breathes in and out, and then, in his calmest voice, he tells Jaehyun, “You’re seeing an ex? Did you lose your mind?”

 

Jaehyun has no way to defend himself, and Taeyong may be aware of that, because he turns to Yuta, whose only intention is to camouflage himself with the couch. “How is he like?”

 

Yuta isn’t ready for that question, not ready to have both of his friends gazing at him to take the final decision. It would be easy to get rid of Sicheng in this exact moment. If Yuta approves of Sicheng, then Taeyong will give him a chance. If he doesn’t, however, Taeyong will protect Jaehyun at all costs and will set him right back on track.

 

Jaehyun bites his lower lip, desperate, and Yuta knows that he’s about to plead with him not to ruin it. Ruin what, though? There’s no way Jaehyun believes he has a chance with Sicheng. No one can be that blind.

 

“Sicheng is…” Yuta begins, unsure. Taeyong arches a brow at him, like his doubt is a valid answer, and Yuta almost panics. Sicheng seems to be a good boy; he speaks innocently and he always looks a bit sad, and perhaps that’s why Yuta can’t say anything bad about him. “He’s fine.”

 

 

 

 

Sometimes, Sicheng’s eyes are dark. It’s darkness beyond the color, the kind that lies within him. There’s something magical about the way his stare becomes unfocused and he’s far, far away from the real world. Yuta sees it happen for the first time not long after meeting him, and it’s not the last time he does. As days pass, it seems to happen more often, as if Sicheng is sinking further in a pool, water up to his neck.

 

Yuta knows Sicheng _tries_. Tries to stay here, with them, listening to Jaehyun’s blabbering, but there must be a great force that wins over him. Yuta observes him then, freely, aware that Sicheng is unable to look back at him and catch the admiration, the curiosity in Yuta’s expression. It’s strange, because Jaehyun never perceives the change, or maybe he’s used to this and has accepted that it’s part of Sicheng’s personality. Or maybe Jaehyun ignores it because that’s the way he protects himself, just like he ignores the fact that Sicheng won’t ever return his feelings.

 

Yuta isn’t sure why he’s being, voluntarily, the spectator of Sicheng and Jaehyun’s relationship. He doesn’t know why he tags along when not even Jaehyun invites him. But he isn’t a nuisance for his friend either way, since he becomes invisible for Jaehyun as soon as Sicheng appears. It takes Yuta a while to find the reason why he’s doing this, yet when the realization hits him, it’s a hard blow in his stomach.

 

Sicheng is subtle with his signals, but he’s asking Yuta to not leave them alone. It’s not that he wants Yuta around, or that Jaehyun’s presence displeases him. He seems terrified when Jaehyun gets too close, when he’s tipsy and on the edge of tears, about to spill truths that Sicheng is aware of, but obviously fears to hear. It’s then when Yuta aids him; when, instead of protecting his friend, Yuta protects Sicheng from getting hurt.

 

 

 

 

Seven days a week, Yuta works at a noodle restaurant. Not his dream job, needless to say, but he’s grateful for the chance Taeyong’s parents gave him. The atmosphere is nice too, and most of the workers are around his age, thus when Yuta is very upset at the routine, it’s easy to forget because Taeil or Youngho are joking around with him. Youngho is especially handy when rude customers come in, since both Taeil and Yuta have a temper, but he’s able to deal with them like they’re kids in a fit of rage. If they happen to have a bad day filled with nerve wrecking customers, Yuta and Taeil offer to close the restaurant and allow Youngho to leave earlier, rest very much deserved.

 

Today is one of these days, a Wednesday night in which they’re not having too much work anymore, and Youngho departs two hours before closure. They only have three customers eating together in a table that Taeil is responsible for, so both he and Yuta have spent the last thirty minutes talking and laughing in hushed voices.

 

When the bell of the door tingles, indicating a new customer, confusion strikes across Taeil’s face. As Yuta turns around, he recognizes the person right away, even if he’s wearing a scarf that conceals everything except his eyes. And there it is, his disoriented emotions, butterflies flapping inside him, accompanying his puzzlement.

 

“Sicheng,” Yuta says as an affirmation, not a question, and much to his surprise, Sicheng’s cheekbones rise, a smile forming behind the scarf.

 

Yuta doesn’t understand why he’s here, but the only explanation Sicheng provides is a mere, “Jaehyun told me you work here.”

 

Upon his silence, Sicheng disentangles the scarf, not smiling anymore, and Taeil sucks in a breath when the piece of cloth falls off. Yuta knows Sicheng can have that effect on people, but his friend reacting like that makes it too real. It must be cold outside, judging Sicheng’s swollen lips and the reddened tip of his nose. He’s still beautiful, however, and out of the blue Yuta has the urge to warm him up, to wrap him up again with the scarf and keep him close.

 

“Does he know you’re here?” Yuta hears himself ask, with a stiff tone that doesn’t represent his inner thoughts.

 

Sicheng blinks at him, eyes round, “No.” _He would have come with me_ , is what he doesn’t add.

 

Even though Yuta likes that answer, he regrets it right away. He shouldn’t be glad that Sicheng planned visiting him without Jaehyun being present, that Sicheng is willing to spend some time alone with him. If Jaehyun knew, he would resent them. Perhaps he would only resent Yuta.

 

“I will make food for you two,” Taeil announces then, nudging Yuta on the back. Yuta wishes he wouldn’t, but now he can’t refuse, since Sicheng sends Taeil a grateful smile and a little bow. “Sit wherever you like.”

 

By the time Taeil retreats into the kitchen and Sicheng takes off his coat, Yuta is trembling. It’s not that noticeable, but it doesn’t help to clear Yuta’s mind, embarrassed that he’s so nervous just for Sicheng’s presence. As he discards his apron, Sicheng has already chosen the most intimate table of the restaurant, and Yuta can’t help but swallow the lump in his throat while he approaches him. His concern vanishes when Sicheng looks up at him, the corner of his lips quirking up, like a magical trick.

 

“You look tired,” Sicheng comments without malice, even a bit worried. And when Yuta doesn’t answer, because it’s useless to deny, he continues in a whisper. “Does it bother you that I came here?”

 

Yuta almost laughs, until he notices the seriousness on Sicheng’s face, as though he’s considering if he has really made a wrong move. It’s disheartening in an endearing sense, and even if Yuta is uneasy at what _all this_ means, he lies, “Not at all. I’m just surprised.”

 

Avoiding Sicheng’s prying eyes is quite difficult, so Yuta gives up. He hates this sensation, once he’s entrapped in those pupils, he just lets go and loses control. There are many questions on Yuta’s mind, though he has tried to suppress them because it wasn’t the right moment to get the answers out of Sicheng. Now it is, for Jaehyun isn’t here to listen to them, and Yuta’s mouth moves on its own, “Why did you come back from China?”

 

“Everything I have is in Seoul,” Sicheng replies, not missing a beat, but his voice indicates he’s not going to explain what _everything_ is.

 

That, to be honest, irritates Yuta a bit, if you can call irritation feeling how someone gets away from you like water seeps through your fingers when you try to grab it.

 

Yuta sighs, resigned, “You shouldn’t stick around. Or let him stick around.”

 

There’s no need to mention Jaehyun. Sicheng is here to talk about him anyway, though Yuta can’t grasp why he chose him, or why his opinion on the issue matters. But it’s what Sicheng is silently asking from him, and therefore Yuta complies. Sicheng’s eyebrows form a small frown, yet he gazes at Yuta as though his words were too predictable.

 

“That’s not my decision, or yours,” he murmurs.

 

“You know why Jaehyun does it.” Insisting doesn’t feel right, but Yuta is scared. Scared of how wounded Jaehyun is going to end up, and how little Sicheng is going to care. Yuta has to hold back the burning words that he’s willing to throw at him, and tries to water down the message, “I don’t get it. It’s not okay to play with your ex-boyfriend’s feelings, less if you still care about him as a friend.”

 

Right when Sicheng opens his mouth to contradict him, Taeil arrives with their food and interrupts them. Still polite, Sicheng thanks him, but then he presses his lips in a thin line, sending Yuta a hard expression. It doesn’t scare him away, yet the fucked up part is that Yuta feels bad out of the blue, as though he has crossed a line he shouldn’t, when in reality he’s just stating the obvious.

 

When Taeil leaves, preoccupied with attending the other customers, Sicheng continues, “I’m not playing with his feelings. I made it very clear we would never get back together.”

 

Jaehyun hid that information when he told Yuta about Sicheng’s return. It probably doesn’t make a difference, however, because Jaehyun must be aware, just embarrassed of admitting out loud that he’s a fool in love.

 

Suddenly very tired, Yuta presses his eyes with the palm of his hands. “I’m just-”

 

“Yeah, worried about him,” Sicheng cuts him off softly. He’s back again to the sweet version of himself, and Yuta can’t stand the sympathy that his eyes emit, how Sicheng suddenly stares at him and Yuta feels safe. It’s wrong. Not wrong because they shouldn’t be alone, talking, _together_ , but because Yuta is sure Sicheng can’t supply anything similar to security. So Yuta focuses on his food, head low and close to the bowl. Sicheng keeps on talking in a whisper, “Jaehyun was my first love. Well, kind of. He was the first person I _thought_ I liked. I knew nothing about love, obviously, but I wasn’t Jaehyun’s first and he was sure of what he felt.”

 

“Sicheng-” Yuta starts, but when he locks eyes with him, he becomes mute.

 

The boy smiles for an ephemeral second. “I didn’t like him that way, but it took me a while to realize. It was just that the way he treated me… made me very happy. Not because of him. Anyone would have made me happy doing the same.”

 

“Sicheng,” Yuta tries again, considering the silence that follows. “Is Jaehyun your only friend?”

 

Sicheng just nods.

 

Yuta wants to run away. This is so dangerous, this guy is so dangerous, that Yuta can already predict he’s going to shatter him if he lets him in. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks, gulping. “What do you want from me?”

 

Much to his shock, Sicheng is perplexed at the question. He wrinkles his forehead, lips parted as to search for the right answer, and that moment of confusion relieves Yuta. Because Sicheng seems perfect, but he isn’t, and Yuta can push him to unknown territory too.

 

“Nothing,” Sicheng says at last. And then, without doubting it for a moment, he draws the most enchanting smile possible. Yuta finds himself holding back the urge to return the smile. “I just had a feeling.”

 

 

 

 

Yuta takes the first photo of Sicheng just days later, and tells himself it’s just one more picture for the collection. He’s not sure why he brings the camera with him, or why he tags along once again, when he could opt out of the plans and let Jaehyun and Sicheng be. He convinces himself with the false excuse that he’s protecting Jaehyun, yet when Sicheng looks his way, when he momentarily grabs his arm and asks him a dozen hushed questions, with his deep, yet delicate voice, all the excuses are useless. Sicheng is a good-hearted boy, and although apparently innocent, maturity seeps through his words and gazes. Yuta understands why he would never fall in love with Jaehyun: for him, Jaehyun is just a kid, a kid whom he indulges.

 

That night, Jaehyun gets shit faced too fast, perhaps noticing he’s not welcomed by his two friends. It’s when they’re in the taxi that he dozes off to sleep, head falling on Sicheng’s shoulder and fingers wrapping around his wrist. Then, Sicheng glances at Yuta from the opposite side of the backseat, and proposes, “Let’s drop him home.”

 

Yuta doesn’t protest, because a knot of emotions rises up from his stomach to his throat, and he can just stare at Sicheng, like hypnotized. A part of him wishes to spend time alone with Sicheng, but the other reminds him that this is not _okay_ , even if it feels good.

 

They leave Jaehyun at home in Taeyong’s arms. Taeyong grasps Yuta by the arm before he can get away, examining how Sicheng walks back to the taxi almost as though he knows they’re going to talk about him. Much to his surprise, Taeyong doesn’t spill what Yuta is expecting — a reprimand — asking instead, “Is that him?”

 

“Yes,” Yuta replies, and the need of justifying himself hits him out of the blue. “I’m just going to-”

 

But Taeyong isn’t listening to him. He’s passing his hand through his hair, eyes closed in frustration and the beginning of a growl ripping through his mouth. “Don’t do anything stupid, Yuta,” he pleads. But he’s begging, not ordering, because he can’t prevent this from happening.

 

“I’m not going to do anything.”

 

The hint of a glare flashes through Taeyong’s eyes, born and dead within a second. “He’s gorgeous,” he observes, accusing. Cupping Yuta’s chin in his hands, he looks into his eyes, and Yuta remembers this is his friend, that they have known each other for so many years that Taeyong can decipher all his secrets in the blink of an eye. And that’s what he’s doing right now, warning Yuta that he’s driving himself into a mess, and that Taeyong can’t force him out of it. “I can take care of Jaehyun. I can cover this for you. But I’m not a fool.”

 

Yuta doesn’t doubt that. The problem is that, unlike his friend, Yuta is a fool, someone who lets himself be led by feelings rather than logic. And yes, he should opt for staying at home and tell Sicheng that tonight isn’t a good time for this, but he promised him – not with words, but it’s exactly when words aren’t needed that the promise becomes greater.

 

 

 

 

Sicheng lives alone, which doesn’t come as a surprise. Yuta can’t imagine him sharing space with someone he isn’t familiar with, or dealing on a daily basis with someone irresponsible. Choosing a flatmate is always a lottery.

 

However, Yuta is grateful that there is no one to bother them, no awkward introductions or explanations. The atmosphere of the flat makes him realize, once more, how lonely Sicheng is. Yuta doesn’t dwell too much on it, except at this moment, all those thoughts run through his head: Sicheng said everything he had was in Seoul, but the only link to Seoul for him is Jaehyun. He isn’t sure how he feels about that.

 

“I’m sorry it’s not warm,” Sicheng apologizes, mistaking his expression for discomfort. “I turn off the heater when I’m going out. But I will turn it on right-”

 

Yuta can’t help but cackle, which cuts Sicheng’s words and provokes him to send a confused look his way. “It’s not cold, really,” Yuta explains.

 

“You’re making weird faces,” Sicheng shoots back, raising a brow. At Yuta’s shocked expression, he ends up cracking a smile too, and then Yuta notices he’s joking. “You’re easy to tease, that’s unexpected.”

 

Yuta mumbles a protest, but so low that Sicheng doesn’t hear him. Sicheng’s house is, indeed, cold, but having him around keeps Yuta warm, distracted from anything that isn’t Sicheng’s eyes, or lips, or gentle voice. He holds back these thoughts, anyhow, because they are scary even for himself, and he can’t predict how scary they will be for Sicheng.

 

Perhaps because Sicheng reckons it’s not very appropriate to lie in bed with Yuta, they find themselves on the couch, bundled up in three blankets that don’t do much for the cause. It’s each other’s body heat what does the trick, and that’s the perfect excuse for Yuta to stick to him; not that Sicheng is reticent about the contact. He leans against Yuta too, plays with his fingers under the blanket and stares at him with a glint in his eyes that Yuta has never seen before. A glint that leaves him breathless, makes him wonder if that’s the reason why Jaehyun fell in love with him.

 

Yuta’s camera rests on the table of the living room, long forgotten, until Sicheng reveals, “I’m a model, you know?”

 

The suggestion is subtle, but evident enough for Yuta’s heart to leap in his chest. Trying to maintain the composure, he asks with a whisper, “You are?” And when Sicheng nods, hair rubbing against his shoulder, he continues. “It’s not that surprising, you are unique enough.”

 

Yuta has no idea why he decides to look at Sicheng in that exact moment, yet as he discovers him gazing back at him, he swears Sicheng knows what mess they’re getting into. He raises his chin, lips looking red under the dim light of the living room, and Yuta sputters the only word that is on his mind, “And beautiful.”

 

“Be careful,” Sicheng warns him, and says no more. However, his hands travel up to Yuta’s jaw, as though he can’t resist the temptation, fingers caressing from his chin to his Adam’s apple. “ _Careful_.”

 

Yuta closes his eyes, not able to deal with the emotions that Sicheng’s touch causes, “I can handle you,” he assures, and it feels like he’s lying to both of them. He wishes he could, and speaking about it out loud forces him to not back out.

 

If Sicheng notices his doubtful tone, he just ignores it, snuggling closer with a sigh. And Yuta isn’t conscious of what’s happening until they’re not sitting anymore, Yuta on his back and Sicheng against his side, head on his chest and a hand tenderly fisting his shirt. It’s a fleeting thought, but Yuta realizes that Sicheng is vulnerable now, that he’s trusting him too much and too fast without a reason. His faith is something that Yuta can’t betray, which would feel like a sin, like hurting a child.

 

Sicheng presses his palm against his abdomen, relaxing, “Can I go to the restaurant more often?”

 

Yuta laughs a raspy laugh, “Please.”

 

 

 

 

Yuta arrives home very late in the afternoon, which isn’t a good decision on his part. If he had been there before Jaehyun got up, he would have saved the explanations. However, he slept during the whole night like a baby, and even when Sicheng wasn’t cuddled up against him anymore, he kept sleeping without noticing it. He guesses he had been accumulating the exhaustion for too long.

 

Much to his shock, Jaehyun isn’t raging when he spots him, though his expression tells him right away that he knows where he spent the night. With his bag hanging off his shoulder, and about to leave for his classes, he opts for asking only with a pout, “You left me out of the fun. Was I that wasted?”

 

“Pretty wasted,” Yuta confirms, gulping, because Jaehyun doesn’t _suspect_. In his world, Yuta and Sicheng would never look at each other. “It’s impressive you’re out of bed, actually.”

 

Jaehyun barely has strength to snicker before crossing the door, but as soon as he’s out, Yuta turns around and discovers Taeyong in the hall. Judging his scowl, arms crossed, he has been listening to them. “I don’t recognize you. At least tell Jaehyun about it,” he reproaches, and Yuta doesn’t remember a time in which Taeyong has talked to him so harshly, with such disappointment. “What is _he_ doing to you? You’re not like this.”

 

“What am I supposed to tell Jaehyun?” Yuta defends himself. He’s helpless, since he doesn’t have answers for Taeyong’s questions, and he does want to confide in his friend, but he doesn’t know where to start. “I don’t know what is happening myself.”

 

And he wonders if that’s what Sicheng provokes in people, slipping into their lives bit by bit, not allowing them the option to reflect and run away. If there will be a point in which Yuta realizes what’s happening, he won’t be able to undo what has been done. Yuta may be an idiot for trusting Sicheng, for believing he has good intentions, because the truth is that he doesn’t know him. Sometimes, even after spending a whole decade with someone, you don’t know their real self. These are the fears he detects in Taeyong’s eyes, as if he can read the future, as if he’s aware he has no remedy for it anyway.

 

Yet Yuta is conscious that the moment he looks into Sicheng’s pupils again, his faith will overrun any insecurity, any common sense.

 

 

 

 

Almost two weeks pass by before Sicheng shows up at the restaurant. Of course, they see each other a few times before that, but they all are prompted by Jaehyun, and this time Yuta decides not join them in their escapades. Sicheng doesn’t seem that pleased with that resolution, but he never expresses whatever he has on his mind, just throwing questioning glances before he leaves with Jaehyun.

 

Yuta even expects Sicheng to give up, or rather, he fears so. He’s obviously someone who receives a lot of attention from others, and perhaps if Yuta doesn’t show enough interest, he will assume he shouldn’t dedicate him any time.

 

However, Yuta forgets even the last of his doubts when he spots Sicheng outside the restaurant, his gaze catching the boy as though he could detect Sicheng’s presence, as though they’re connected. That’s nonsense, but Yuta doesn’t mind the places his head goes when Sicheng is around, too overwhelmed by the knot of nerves in his stomach.

 

The only greeting Sicheng grants him is a sweet, sincere smile, before asking, “Are you done for tonight?”

 

Yuta parts his lips to give a negative answer, because it’s way too soon to close the restaurant, but Taeil shoves him from behind. Which is a great way to shut him up, but also propels him against the counter and therefore, he releases a squawking, embarrassing noise.

 

“Yeah, he’s done!” Taeil lies, with such assertiveness that Yuta wonders how many times Taeil has fooled him and he has blindly believed him. “You can take him, please, far away from me.”

 

Sicheng’s eyes crinkle up in happiness, amused by the joke. Even more when Yuta punches Taeil in the arm, and in a cute, indignant voice, asks, “Hey, why are you trying to get rid of me?”

 

“It’s fine, Yuta, I do want your company,” Sicheng replies him, making Taeil snicker as he goes back into the kitchen. Perhaps because he’s using an evidently flirtatious tone, Yuta is only able to stare at him in mild surprise, no words coming out of his mouth. But Sicheng pretends nothing happened and raises a brow at him, “My home? I wanted to take you somewhere, but it happens to be open only in the weekends. Which, by the way, means you should get a free day so that we can go.”

 

“Your home is fine,” Yuta agrees, already taking off the jacket of his uniform and searching for his coat instead. He knows that Sicheng will lend him clothes so that he doesn’t spend the night in his uniform; if he doesn’t ditch him and lets him stay over, that’s it. “But you have to convince me to take a day off just for _you_.”

 

Satisfied by the challenge, Sicheng laughs happily as Yuta abandons the counter, trying to put his gloves on. However, before Yuta manages to even slip one hand inside, Sicheng interlaces their hands together, fingers fitting perfectly with each other’s, palm against palm. He whispers, “Oh, I will.”

 

 

 

 

Sicheng cooks pork for him, which reveals another secret Yuta ignored: Sicheng is great at cooking. Perhaps because Yuta isn’t familiar with Chinese food, or because he eats too much fast food, Sicheng’s dinner becomes the best meal he has had in weeks. That’s not the best part of the night, but the fact that after a couple of hours on the couch, they move into the bedroom. And it all feels too real, too inconceivable, when Sicheng nestles in his arms and rests his head in the crook of his neck. Yuta’s heartbeats are so loud that he hears them in his own ears, and besides Sicheng’s calm breathing, that’s all he can hear.

 

“Your photos are really good,” Sicheng compliments him with a mutter, spilling the words like he has been holding them for too long. Yuta doesn’t react, although he wants to answer, because that’s more than he can take. Not only the fact that Sicheng trusts him enough to share his bed with him, but that he admires him too, somehow. “Why are you working at a restaurant?”

 

Yuta accepted his fate long ago, so he’s not ashamed to admit it, “I can’t afford that education.”

 

Not allowing the silence to expand, Sicheng looks up at him, lips almost caressing his jaw. He doesn’t lean into his skin, anyhow, and simply tells him, “There are people who don’t need _education_ to make art.”

 

Sicheng is warm, so warm that Yuta feels his fingertips pulse, his blood racing through his veins, like an infected wound that is trying to catch his attention. Sicheng makes him so warm that there’s not enough oxygen in the atmosphere, and Yuta’s vision is blurred with white spots.

 

“Thanks for that,” Yuta breathes out, the real world coming back to his eyes. He sinks into Sicheng’s dark eyes, which are staring at him with both inquisitiveness and tenderness. “It means a lot.”

 

At that, Sicheng draws a smirk full of mischief, “Because it’s me who is saying it?”

 

Yuta holds him closer, as to warn him that he’s crossing a line, and Sicheng releases one of those childish, beautiful laughs of his, trembling in excitement. “Don’t be cocky, kid,” he whispers, though in all honesty, Sicheng has all the reasons in the world to be. Because yes, it means more because these words are coming out of his mouth, more than it would mean if it had been Taeyong, Jaehyun, or a stranger.

 

However, Sicheng detaches from him, breaking the hug for a moment. Yuta doesn’t understand why at first, until Sicheng climbs up and accommodates so that they can look at each other’s face comfortably. It’s then that Sicheng caresses his cheek, with so much delicacy that Yuta can’t help but shiver.

 

“I’m serious,” Sicheng assures, but Yuta is positive neither of them know what that sentence is referring to. To Yuta’s talent, to their relationship, or to his intentions. “I won’t let someone like you fade away. You might not realize now, but it’s a pity no one is seeing your pictures.”

 

Sicheng renders him speechless, with his red cherry lips and his twinkling eyes, and Yuta hates him so much. He hates that he’s dying to feel Sicheng’s lips against his, to sneak a hand under his shirt, under his pants, have a bit more than this. But he doesn’t do anything of that; he stares and stares until Sicheng can read his mind, the desire in his eyes, because it’s too soon to act on his wishes, but not too soon to let Sicheng know.

 

“You’re so attracted to trouble,” Sicheng figures out, and he’s right. He sighs, “I think it’s me who should tell him.”

 

Just like that, Sicheng kicks him back to reality, though he doesn’t mention Jaehyun’s name. If it has become a taboo, Yuta isn’t sure, but he’s sure that thinking about Jaehyun in this instant ruins the hope that was simmering in his chest.

 

“Why?” Yuta asks with honest interest. For he has pondered about it before, and he hasn’t even considered the option of another person talking to Jaehyun about this. Maybe because Yuta had the feeling he had allowed Sicheng to get too close, when he should have been responsible – should still be - and should have set a decent distance between them. On the contrary, Yuta has had his arms wide open for Sicheng, and Jaehyun deserves to punch him in the face for it.

 

Sicheng sighs, “He will get mad at you if you tell him. But he won’t get mad at me, and not at you if I tell him it’s my fault.”

 

Yuta closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, as Sicheng slips back to his original position, hiding his face against his neck. This time, he does leave a silent kiss there, a kiss that they both know wasn’t meant to be on the neck.

 

“Your fault?” Yuta manages to say in the end, once he has calmed down. He doesn’t want to spill out something that he will regret, or tell Sicheng that what he intends to do is, plainly, manipulation. Sicheng is aware of that, of the power that he holds over Jaehyun, and it scares Yuta. Because he might be in Jaehyun’s shoes one day, and Sicheng might domesticate him like he’s going to do to Jaehyun. However, what he concludes is, “This is not a mistake, Sicheng.”

 

And Sicheng replies, “I know.”

 

 

 

 

Yuta wakes up alone, and he needs a while to remember that Sicheng mentioned he had work in the morning, though that doesn’t serve as consolation. It’s evident he didn’t leave the place long ago: the spot next to Yuta is still warm, and the smell of coffee coming from outside the room is intense. When Yuta walks to the kitchen, however, there’s no trace of Sicheng, except for a neat, cold breakfast prepared for him.

 

Not knowing if Sicheng is going to return soon, Yuta decides to stick around only for the necessary time, and remembering what the boy said last night, he turns off the heat before exiting the flat. Outside, without Sicheng, Yuta feels cold.

 

 

 

 

Yuta finds Taeyong at home, crouched on the couch with a notebook on his lap. He lifts his head when he hears Yuta’s steps, looking shocked for a second, but then he relaxes and sends him a soft smile.

 

“Aren’t your exams over?” Yuta pries, furrowing his eyebrows at the notebook. Taeyong has passed two long weeks without barely stepping out of the house, studying all the time except for short breaks to eat and shower. More than once, Yuta has had to force him to get into bed and sleep, claiming that his brain wouldn’t function without proper rest.

 

“Yeah, I’m just reading,” Taeyong answers with a shrug. Yuta feels compelled to point out that more reading isn’t ideal, not after exams, but Taeyong doesn’t give enough time. “I shouldn’t ask where you were, right?”

 

Yuta blinks at him, confused by his friend’s tone. “You aren’t scolding me,” he states, because it isn’t meant to be a question. There’s no resentment in Taeyong’s eyes, or in his words, and there’s no resignation either. Yuta ignores what has changed for Taeyong to accept his bad decisions, _this_ bad decision all of a sudden.

 

Instead of acknowledging him, Taeyong keeps his gaze fixed on the notebook, “I saw the pictures you took of him.”

 

For a second, Yuta is bewildered. Then he remembers what he was thinking about when he took these photos, what he was feeling, and the confusion dies in his mouth. “Oh.”

 

“You’ve never been in love with anyone before,” Taeyong murmurs, and he’s not reading anymore, his thumb stroking the edge of the notebook.  He falters, as though he doesn’t dare continue, and at the end ventures, “Have you?”

 

Taeyong already knows the answer. There is a reason why he’s his best friend, and he would have known right away if Yuta had even shown the slightlest interest in someone. Taeyong is asking something else, and Yuta doesn’t realize until this instant, Taeyong’s pretty eyes staring at him with a painful trace of hope. Yuta would never lie to him, so he shakes his head, not able to say it out loud. “Have you?” he shoots back, and it’s a mistake.

 

In the flicker of an eye, there’s a lopsided smile on Taeyong’s lips, “You’re a fool.” He closes the notebook, putting a tiny piece of paper at the page he was reading.  “I’m not anymore. But it’s still weird to see how you act towards him.”

 

That’s too much to process, and fearing that his knees are going to fail him, Yuta has no option but to sit down next to Taeyong. Yuta is about to apologize, though he’s not the one to blame for someone else’s feelings; maybe he is responsible for being so blind, so inconsiderate, for allowing life and concerns to swallow him and not taking care of Taeyong like Taeyong took care of him. However, any apology is cut off by Taeyong snuggling against him, like it’s just another day in their friendship, and he didn’t just admit there was a time he was in love with Yuta.

 

“I know this is fucking cruel for Jaehyun,” Taeyong starts, resting his head on Yuta’s thigh. “But I’m going to always put your happiness first.”

 

 

 

 

Sicheng is right, but also wrong. Yuta trusts him, however, because pondering about it, he doesn’t even have the guts to tell Jaehyun what’s happening. He doesn’t even know what he would say. Sicheng is better with words, Yuta has experienced that much, but he makes the mistake of not warning Yuta beforehand. So yes, he’s right, because Jaehyun doesn’t get angry at him, but he’s wrong at the same time, because Jaehyun does get mad at Yuta.

 

He doesn’t expect it, one night, when Jaehyun punches him in the nose so hard that the world spins around him. He’s only aware of the pain in his face and the blood running through his fingers, and Taeyong’s scream, which sounds terribly far away. Yuta doesn’t defend himself, and Jaehyun doesn’t attack him again; one punch, with that strength, is more than enough to describe his anger. Just seconds later, Yuta realizes that it’s because Jaehyun has hurt his own hand too, and is currently bent over the floor, groaning. The boy doesn’t actually have any skill to fight, but he didn’t consider that, too blinded by his emotions.

 

Terrified by the blood, Taeyong runs to Yuta first, but Yuta raises a hand to stop him, “I’m okay. It’s not broken or anything.” Or at least he hopes so, because the pain is so intense that his whole face is numb, and Yuta can’t really distinguish if he has a broken nose right now or not. He just hates the way Taeyong looks at him, so desperate, like he cares too much about Yuta’s well being.

 

Still, Taeyong shoves him to go to the bathroom, and Yuta locks himself in there, both to cease the nosebleed and to avoid Jaehyun assaulting him once more. It isn’t that difficult, although he makes a mess in the bathroom and Taeyong is going to kill him when he discovers it. Needless to say, he doesn’t risk leaving the bathroom until Taeyong himself comes to pick him up, assuring him it’s safe to talk with Jaehyun. Almost one hour passes by until Taeyong does, although it mustn’t be that simple to calm someone who has been betrayed by his own friend.

 

If Yuta has already felt horrible before all this, recognizing the tears in Jaehyun’s eyes propels him to the lowest phase possible. Watching his friend cry, the friend who brightens him up when he’s buried in his own dark thoughts, destroys an important part of his composure.

 

Yet to his surprise, when Jaehyun turns his head towards him, he sobs a desperate, “I’m sorry.”

 

That’s not what Yuta predicted, at least not so soon after fighting, therefore he just stands in the middle of the living room, observing Jaehyun in bewilderment. With his voice trembling, he whispers, “It’s fine, I deserve it.”

 

“You don’t!” Jaehyun protests. He steps forward, as to reach out, but he seems to remember what he has done and recoils, not missing the way Yuta flinches back. “Don’t say that, or I’ll punch you again.”

 

If that was the remedy for Jaehyun’s tears, Yuta would gladly permit it. Jaehyun is so kind, so nice, that Yuta could break his heart a million times and Jaehyun would forgive him every time; and that, in contrast with him, who has chosen Sicheng over his friend, defines Yuta more than defines Jaehyun. Yuta doesn’t know at which point of his life he became so self-centered, or maybe it’s just Sicheng’s effect on him - infatuation makes one lose common sense.

 

Yuta sighs, his nose still throbbing in pain. “I love you, Jaehyun, I’m sorry this happened.”

 

Whatever importance these words have for Jaehyun, it’s enough for him to break down. This time he leaps onto Yuta, throwing his arms around his neck, burying his face in his shoulder; Yuta is afraid at first, but soon Jaehyun is hugging him so hard that the fear of being hit disappears. Yuta responds slowly, not sure if he has the right to hug Jaehyun back, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches Taeyong walking into his room, leaving them alone.

 

By the time Jaehyun withdraws from the hug, he’s back to sobbing. He has to wipe his eyes with his sleeve, and Yuta can’t help but collaborate, which involves them in an oddly intimate situation. Jaehyun’s shoulders deflate, and he looks tiny despite being taller than Yuta.

 

“I thought… I noticed you looked happier lately,” he confesses, gaze travelling from Yuta’s face to the floor. And then he mumbles, with pouty lips, “Honestly I don’t want the old Yuta back. I’m not going to do that to you.”

 

Yuta knows what Jaehyun is talking about. The thing is, they don’t talk about this. “You can hate me, okay?” he reminds him, in a hopeless attempt to change the topic.

 

Jaehyun sniffles, and then laughs a bit, embarrassed, “I couldn’t even if I tried.”

 

 

 

 

Sicheng whines so pitifully when they meet again that Yuta is positive he’s going to turn crazy. And it’s silly, after all, because that shrill sound shouldn’t be relieving, shouldn’t make him feel appreciated.

 

It’s a warm day, like a ray of hope in the middle of winter, and Yuta doesn’t remember having seen Sicheng in the street without his red scarf. Not that it matters, because Yuta loves his lips, the soft edges of his face that ends in a delicate chin, so he loves Sicheng stripped off his scarf the most, like a plant blossoming in the ice of winter.

 

“It looks so bad,” Sicheng fusses, the corners of his mouth turned down as he cups Yuta’s face between his hands. He observes the bruise on Yuta’s nose with a noteworthy frown, “Does it hurt?”

 

Amazed, Yuta laughs. The concern in Sicheng’s voice is unbelievable. “And here I was thinking I looked handsome. “Tough,” he jokes, pretending he’s offended. But after what seems to be a glare coming from Sicheng, as to recommend him to take his questions seriously, Yuta adds, “It doesn’t hurt, fool. Do you want to kiss it better?”

 

It’s not a challenge at all, and Yuta has to repress a gasp when Sicheng in fact leans near his face, planting an innocent, short peck on the tip of his nose. “I missed you,” he murmurs, very softly.

 

“It has been two days,” Yuta points outs, astonished. He would be lying if he denied he doesn’t crave Sicheng every second he’s awake, and every second he’s dreaming about him, but it’s so hard for him to admit such a weakness. Sicheng, for some reason, doesn’t find it that hard.

 

The boy hums at him, “It felt like an eternity.”

 

Yuta reserved one of his free days for Sicheng, and he doesn’t regret it. Though Taeil complained that he didn’t like sharing his shift with Donghyuck, another co-worker that only works during the weekend – a kid that is actually a nightmare, so Taeil is indeed going to suffer - Yuta needed a day of peace, without grumpy customers and endless thoughts about going home.

 

As Sicheng interlaces their arms, clinging to him to guide him through the street, Yuta realizes how unpredictable life is. Months ago, Yuta would have never foreseen that he would have a reason to be enthusiastic about living or going out, or that he would have a camera and a hundred photos stacked on his desk. And he would have never imagined he would want to kiss someone as much as he wants to kiss Sicheng, or just hold him, hear him breathe in his sleep. But there they are, Yuta feeling alive only when he sees himself reflected in Sicheng’s pupils, a shudder that travels from the deepest part of his body.

 

The place that Sicheng was willing to bring him to is a small café in a marginalized district. It’s a mystery how Sicheng discovered such a local without living here, unless someone has shown it to him before, but Yuta isn’t that interested in the details. What Sicheng intends to offer him is not the place itself, but the guy performing on a tiny stage. It’s a poetry recital, not done by professionals, but people who do have their own experience with poetry, who have learnt by themselves and thus poetry has a different meaning for each one of them. Sitting with Sicheng in one of the couches in a badly illuminated corner, Yuta understands why they’re here. Sicheng wanted to prove him that, just like all these persons who likely haven’t even graduated high school but are able to stir something inside them, Yuta can do the same.

 

That night, Yuta thinks they’re going to kiss. But they don’t. It’s 3 a.m. when they leave the café, and Sicheng runs through the dirty streets with laughter on his lips. Yuta lets him go, grinning like a mad man, because he knows Sicheng will be waiting at home for him. The copy of the keys Sicheng slipped into his pocket minutes ago means much more than words, more even than the spark when they look at each other.

 

That night, they don’t kiss. But Sicheng is at the feet of the bed, eyes glazed and breathing rushed, as he unbuttons his shirt. And Yuta knows exactly what he has to do, what Sicheng wants to give him, marveling as he realizes that, with every piece of cloth that Sicheng takes off, he becomes more beautiful. As any other boy would, Yuta yearns to touch, but he isn’t allowed to, he gathers that much. The camera, resting on Sicheng’s night table, is what he’s supposed to have between his hands, and he complies without a word. In part because he’s speechless at Sicheng’s naked body, at the way he’s lying on the bed, like he doesn’t belong to Yuta’s world; but also because he fears that words will demolish this moment, full of fragility and trust.

 

The ache in his hands dissipates with the first click of the camera, with Sicheng staring at him through the lens, and every piece fits into its right place.

 

 

 

 

Yuta knows the photos aren’t just an artistic will of Sicheng. He knows, because Sicheng whispers a sweet, daring _enjoy them_ next morning before leaving him alone in his apartment. Sicheng is too smart, aware that Yuta wakes up hard and doesn’t say a word about it, and therefore hurries to give him privacy. A privacy that Yuta would love to share, but that Sicheng dodges on purpose, eyes crinkling up in mischievousness when he catches the effect it has on Yuta.

 

Yuta doesn’t even need the photos to come undone on Sicheng’s bed. He has the images engraved within, can perfectly envision Sicheng’s bare body behind his eyelids, his delicate stomach and thighs, the desperation in his eyes, and his swollen, red dick as he touched himself last night under Yuta’s attention. He remembers what his camera couldn’t capture, like Sicheng’s breathy, needy moans and how they shoot through Yuta like a venomous arrow. And that’s how he is, right then, painting Sicheng’s blue sheets white and choking his moans against the pillow: completely poisoned.

 

 

 

 

Like almost every night, Sicheng chooses his preferred table at the restaurant, hopeful that Yuta will finish his shift soon. Today it’s too early, however, and Yuta has to work with Sicheng’s eyes following him expectantly for the rest of the night, observing how he works. Yuta is restless, needless to say, since his only thought is to throw everything away from Sicheng, to spend one more minute between his arms.

 

Past midnight, he finally makes his way to Sicheng’s table. Taeil is cleaning the place after the last customers have disappeared, sweeping in silence, only to the background noise of a small TV to which they never pay attention. Yuta’s exhaustion doesn’t exist once he glides to the seat in front of Sicheng. They have dinner together, sharing a single bowl of ramen for the two of them; the boy doesn’t seem hungry today, more distracted with staring at Yuta through his eyelashes. He doesn’t understand why, though, until Sicheng props his chin onto the palm of his hands, a glint of curiosity in his face.

 

“Tell me what you like about me,” he bids, unsure, like he’s stepping over a dangerous line.

 

“Who says I like you?” Yuta retorts, a smirk perched on his lips.

 

Instead of complaining, or teasing about how obvious Yuta usually is, Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Okay,” he accepts, tapping his fingertips below his lower lip. He casts a glance towards Taeil to check he’s not listening, and then continues, “I’ll start. I like how you understand me without having to explain myself. You make me feel like I belong.”

 

Yuta forgets the food right away, the chopsticks softly sliding into the bowl. His chest clenches with emotions he doesn’t recognize, lips parted to find the right response to such confession. There’s none.

 

He gulps, and Sicheng smiles at him to encourage him. He murmurs, “Belong to?”

 

“Just belong.” Sicheng shrugs, signaling that Yuta’s question doesn’t need an answer. Perhaps Yuta already has that knowledge, or perhaps Sicheng ignores the answer as well. “Your turn.”

 

Yuta hums, pondering if the truth is too much, too real for it to be appropriate. Anyhow, Sicheng must know about his feelings, and that’s not what he requested in the first place. He’s not asking _are you in love with me?_ , he’s asking _why are you in love with me?_

 

“I’m happy with you,” Yuta admits in the end, certain that’s the most important fact about him, about them. Sicheng blinks at him so slowly, pleased, that Yuta has the odd sensation he’s nodding at him with his eyelids. “And you have a cute nose.”

 

Sicheng snorts, lips stretched into one of those charming, naïve smiles Yuta adores so much. “You have a cute nose, too.”

 

 

 

 

It isn’t a surprise to discover that Jaehyun and Sicheng meet each other as often as before. There’s no reason not to, after all, and Yuta doesn’t consider himself a jealous person. Yet he hasn’t been so deep into someone before, so he wonders if he should experience that jealousy, if there’s something wrong with both of them because they aren’t afraid of being cheated on. He’s lost when it comes to this topic, and with his lack of friends, Yuta has no remedy but to ask Taeyong, although it’s likely that’s not very sensitive on his part.

 

Taeyong doesn’t mind. In fact, he’s beyond amused as Yuta exposes his doubts, raises his eyebrows like he’s trying not to laugh at his friend.

 

“That means you have a healthy relationship. That he makes you feel secure and loved enough,” Taeyong concludes, and although his tone is tender, his face shows interest. “Unless you’re finding out you wouldn’t have a problem with sharing him?”

 

Yuta immediately frowns at the idea, “No. That’s not it. That would definitely bother me.”

 

“That’s fine, too,” Taeyong appeases him, settling a hand on his shoulder. “Then you’re sure he wouldn’t betray you. Actually, I can tell he’s sincere. If he’s going to be an asshole, at least he will tell you first.”

 

At some point along the way, as Taeyong grew up, he clearly lost the skill to console people. However, Yuta is grateful to have him by his side. If he falls, Taeyong will catch him, whether he loves him or not, or whether he deserves it or not.

 

 

 

 

Sicheng leaves for China one week later, but it’s temporary. One of his cousins is getting married, and his family pressures him to attend, even if he has to fly all the way back home just to stay for a few days. Yuta has the urge to ask if Sicheng isn’t excited about spending time with his family, yet it’s evident he isn’t as he explains the situation.

 

With Sicheng gone, Yuta is restless. He doesn’t remember what he used to do before, after getting off work, unless all he ever did was to go home and sleep. It’s ridiculous, indeed, because Jaehyun seems to be in the same position, so they naturally flock together; and then Yuta remembers that’s how it was, he and Jaehyun acting like they’re teenagers while Taeyong chases after them to calm them down. To his relief, Jaehyun is too good of a person to have changed his attitude towards him. He is, as always, too curious, even when it’s about facts he shouldn’t be nosing in.

 

Jaehyun drags him out one night, even after Yuta had jumped into his pajamas, just to take a stroll and spend a couple of hours in a pub. The good part about pubs is that you can talk to anyone without having to scream, and that allows them to enjoy a placid conversation.

 

Almost an hour passes before Jaehyun dares to inquire whatever he’s dying to. Yuta can tell by the way he opens his mouth several times, but then Yuta is talking and Jaehyun regrets his initial intention, mouth opening and closing like a fish’s. It’s not until a long silence swells that Jaehyun distractedly says, “How is it going?”

 

Yuta stares at him for several seconds, confused, “Are you serious?”

 

“Yes. I want to know,” he insists with a fervent nod. At Yuta’s vacillating expression, he clarifies, “Sicheng is uncomfortable telling me things about you two.”

 

That’s the natural reaction, Yuta wishes to point out. He doesn’t comprehend Jaehyun’s logic, his curiosity, but then out of the blue Taeyong’s words return to his mind. Perhaps Jaehyun isn’t troubled by the idea of sharing someone, just by the fact that Yuta and Sicheng don’t agree with him in that aspect – perhaps just by the fact Sicheng doesn’t want him that way.

 

“Aren’t you-” Yuta begins, pondering if it’s right to utter such question. “Aren’t you in love with him?”

 

Jaehyun sends him an odd look, like realizing Yuta isn’t on the same wavelength. “I think I will always be.” He smiles at Yuta, no trace of bitterness in it, and lectures him, “Love isn’t supposed to be selfish.”

 

He’s right, though he’s younger than him and has less experience. Even if the only thing Jaehyun does is getting into trouble and running into other people’s arms for cover, he’s wiser than Yuta will ever be. Yuta owes him confiding in him despite the situation, that’s for sure. So taking a deep breath, Yuta looks into his friend’s eyes and reveals, “I’m afraid he will leave me one day.”

 

“Of course you are,” Jaehyun concedes.  “He must be afraid you will leave him too. This is… this has happened to him several times. That’s why he doesn’t have friends. They fall in love with him. Sometimes it’s just in a platonic way, but it gets obsessive and toxic for some reason. And then two things might happen: Sicheng doesn’t love them back, so they leave because they are hurt; or they fall out of love, and they lose interest in him.”

 

The lights of the pub become bigger in Yuta’s vision, the words knocking his sanity down. He isn’t one of those guys, he tells himself, he just can’t be. “As if he isn’t more than worthy of a romantic relationship.”

 

“Yes, that’s it,” Jaehyun confirms, and Yuta must be showing all the panic he’s experiencing, because his friend softly laughs. “You are getting angry just by hearing this. You’re fucking whipped.”

 

 

 

 

Yuta’s camera is empty until the day Sicheng comes back. He decides not to drive all the way to the airport, uninvited, since he’s oblivious of how Sicheng’s mood will be after being with his family for a week. He might need time, or might need Yuta, but in any case Sicheng can text him and tell him.

 

It’s undeniable what Yuta’s mind is planning on its own, but he manages to not ponder about it too much. He’s patient until the message comes, simple words that sound just like Sicheng’s, _I’m home_. So he flies there, to Sicheng’s home, but also his. The boy welcomes him in loose pants and an oversized hoodie that make his arms look like an octopus’, and Yuta feels like laughing, feels kind of crazy because Sicheng is, no matter what, a piece of art in his eyes.

 

“I brought you a present,” is what Sicheng tells him in the first place, which is beyond absurd, as though they haven’t passed a whole week without even talking to each other.

 

Yuta can’t resist it. He steps inside and closes the door behind him so hard that the frame groans.  He grabs Sicheng by the waist and pushes him against the closest wall, the world narrowing around them; he doesn’t know where they are, just that they’re pressed against each other, Sicheng’s parted lips accepting his mouth eagerly. Not even for a second does Sicheng hesitate, arms encircling his neck and hands caressing the back of his head. The way Sicheng kisses him is far from lacking, he seems to be familiar with every inch of Yuta’s mouth, like they have kissed a million times. His lips are wet, but Yuta expected that, for he has the habit of running his tongue over his lips; what he doesn’t expect is Sicheng licking into his mouth, or grazing his teeth over his lower lip. He doesn’t expect Sicheng to smile into the kiss, wider and wider until it’s impossible for them to do it anymore, until it’s all about bites and smiles. And once they stop, Sicheng presses their noses together, eyes closed, and pecks his lips one last time, like a period at the beginning of a story.

 

It’s evident Sicheng didn’t even have time to turn the heater on, but Yuta feels the warmness running through his veins, his heart racing. The boy stares at him through his eyelashes with a hint of mirth, satisfied, and so, so happy that it’s contagious.

 

Sicheng bumps their noses together again, lifting his chin to stroke his lips, and purrs, “Kiss me more.”

 

So Yuta complies.

 

 

 

 

Sicheng stays in bed that morning, one of the rare times Yuta gets to wake up with the boy between his arms. However, he’s already awake, knees curled up against Yuta’s stomach and a tender grin on his face. He hasn’t been observing him in his sleep, Yuta is sure of that, but as soon as Yuta opens his eyes, Sicheng focuses all his attention on him, gazing at him like he’s the _reason_ , the most important person in the world. Yuta surely feels like he is.

 

“Didn’t give you my present last night,” Sicheng announces, sounding mildly troubled at such realization.

 

Yuta rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as Sicheng leans into his chest, yearning for the contact.  He allows him to tuck his head under Yuta’s chin, cradles Sicheng’s shoulders with his arms, fingers stroking through his silky hair.

 

“I think you did,” Yuta smartly teases, contented when Sicheng’s response is to yelp in protest.

 

“Just listen,” he whispers, and Yuta falls in silence right away. Sicheng can do that to him, gathering his interest with just a few words, but it’s mostly because Yuta loves to listen, loves to contemplate, loves to analyze and feel the reality around him. Which can be a problem if reality isn’t good. “I got in contact with an old friend in China. He’s a photographer, Qian Kun, I used to work with him a lot. He has been living in China for a while, but he comes here often for business. He owns several photography agencies, and they have established one in Seoul only two months ago.”

 

Yuta’s chest clenches at the insinuation, his fingers freezing in Sicheng’s dark hair. If he notices Yuta is petrified, he decides to disregard it and continues, “I told him I had a recommendation. So you have to send him your work this week, and they’ll consider you.”

 

“You’re crazy,” Yuta mumbles, almost unable to breath. It’s as though the sea is parting in front of him, too deep for him to walk on that new path without being swallowed. Because the sea might close around him at any time if he sets foot in a foreign field. “I don’t have credentials to apply for such job.”

 

“Your photos are enough,” Sicheng retorts, and his tone shows that he’s not accepting any objection. “Just try. You won’t lose anything. You can send the ones you took of me.”

 

It’s so ridiculous that Yuta can’t help but snicker, very well aware that Sicheng is talking about a specific set of pictures, not the regular ones he has of him strolling through Hongdae. “Those are ours. I won’t let anyone see them.”

 

Despite the initial refusal, Sicheng is convinced Yuta’s response to the proposal is positive, hence why he doesn’t insist. He’s right, of course, and as he disentangles himself from Yuta’s grasp and kicks the covers off, Yuta wonders why he cares so much about him, if he deserves that Sicheng tries so hard for him. “Such a possessive one,” Sicheng croons, back arching as he stretches his arms over his head.

 

“It’s not about you being naked,” Yuta grumbles, eyes stuck on the lines of Sicheng’s abdomen. And then, in a velvety voice, he adds, “You know that.”

 

 

 

 

Winter fades away like pushed by a breeze. First, Sicheng’s scarves are stored in one of the deepest drawers, and then it’s his gloves and coats; pieces of cloth, one after another, are forgotten as spring arrives. Yuta loves it. They say goodbye to running inside coffee shops for warmth, to sleep hugging until they’re asphyxiating each other; they say goodbye to turning off the heater every time they leave the apartment, or to turning it on.

 

But that means there are less hidden parts, and it’s easier for Yuta to undress Sicheng, to stay naked in bed without having to throw the covers over them. Whether it’s winter or spring, Sicheng is warm regardless when Yuta is inside of him.

 

 

 

 

Taeyong demands to meet Sicheng at some point, and neither Yuta nor Sicheng himself have a problem with it. Yuta admires that he’s that brave, though he reckons that he’s too charming to be intimidated by Taeyong. His friend is reticent at first, naturally, because Sicheng is the one who hogs Yuta all the time; the one who brought the problems, who hurt Jaehyun. Yuta reads the confusion on Taeyong’s face that day, as though he’s debating why he can’t find any flaw in Sicheng. Why someone who can cause so much pain can be so beautiful inside.

 

Yuta knows that, perhaps if Taeyong had met Sicheng in another circumstance, he would have fallen in love with him. They would have fitted. There’s no chance now, however, because there’s no space for someone else between them.

 

It’s odd somehow, but Yuta finally understands Sicheng’s words when he said he felt he _belonged_. It’s not a concept that one can grasp with words, not a concept that can be explained, but just experienced. Yuta feels it traveling within him every time Sicheng chants _I love you I love you_ as he comes, every time Sicheng laughs against his mouth after an orgasm, yet also when Yuta feels lonely and Sicheng notices it, kissing his eyelids in the middle of a silent night.

 

 

 

 

Yuta resigns right before summer. He does it of his own will, without evaluating the idea first, as if he’s possessed by some type of force to ruin his life. There are things that make him happy, but cooking noodles, a job that he obtained thanks to Taeyong’s family and their charity, isn’t one of them. It’s a thorn in his neck, actually, as though the young boy who entered the restaurant is hanging off his back, preventing him from moving on and growing up.

 

Yuta resigns days before hearing the voicemail from a photographers’ agency in Seoul. It’s not the one he applied for, and it doesn’t take him much to discover that Sicheng took the work he sent to Kun’s agency and decided to spread it among the rest of agencies. The agency that calls back isn’t the best one, but it’s _good_. Good enough for Yuta to have to sit and cry a bit after the call, while Sicheng simply laughs and whispers _please don’t hate me for not consulting you first_. Fucking Sicheng that night is different; Yuta feels complete, awake, and for some reason, when Sicheng murmurs how much he loves him, it’s the first time Yuta believes he deserves it.

 

 

 

 

“The real question is,” Jaehyun says, rolling his eyes when he catches Yuta crossing the door at seven in the morning, the third time this week, “Why are we still pretending you live here?”

 

Jaehyun has a very valid point, but Yuta refuses to give up so soon in this fight. “Because I live here. All my stuff is here,” he reasons. Except half of his clothes aren’t, or his shoes, for that matter. Two of his three toothbrushes are at Sicheng’s, so are his laptop and his camera, and maybe this month he has slept in Sicheng’s bed more times than in his own. Yuta just likes to share, he assures himself.

 

“Just because you’re lazy to move out,” Jaehyun notices, mordant. However, his eyes turn soft very fast, not able to pretend he’s bothered even if it’s a joke. “The moment you start getting paid by the agency, you can use that money to cover half of Sicheng’s rent, and Taeyong and me will finally live in peace. Yeah?”

 

“I can’t believe you want to get rid of me that much,” Yuta moans, but Jaehyun doesn’t pity him, throwing a smug smile his way. Yuta ruffles his hair, and hopes that Jaehyun isn’t showing a façade nowadays, hopes that Jaehyun won’t resent him one day for choosing Sicheng over their friendship. “You won’t be able to handle Taeyong by yourself, anyhow.”

 

Jaehyun’s eyes sparkle with amusement, “You’re underestimating the power of my cuteness.”

 

 

 

 

When Yuta does move out, months later, it’s not to Sicheng’s apartment. They choose a new place together, because that’s how it’s supposed to be, not Yuta letting himself to be led, living off things others created for him. It’s Taeyong who helps him pack his belongings, however, and Yuta allows it although he doesn’t need it. Taeyong needs it, to do something for him one last time, aware that Yuta isn’t that teenager he met in highschool. He hasn’t been his past self for a long time anyway, but maybe he was too scared to face reality; being stuck in the phase in which he was a lost kid whom Taeyong took care of was the comfortable option. Deep inside, he knew it was hard for Taeyong to let go of that too.

 

After setting the last box inside the new apartment, Yuta wonders if all along, it was Taeyong and Jaehyun who needed him, and not the other way around. Because what he feels for his friends and what he feels for Sicheng is extremely different; he can’t even think what would happen if Sicheng abandoned him, but when it comes to his friends, Yuta knows that, despite being a hard blow, he could continue his life, just carrying that wound.

 

“Sit down on the boxes,” Yuta asks Sicheng, observing the floor of their apartment full of brown boxes. Sicheng sends him a confused look, until he realizes Yuta is looking for his camera and he explains, “We have to commemorate.”

 

Sicheng jumps on one of biggest boxes, yet it crumbles a bit under his weight. It’s pretty funny, because Sicheng barely weighs anything, and Yuta can usually lift him just with his hands.

 

The boy doesn’t mind, throws his head back so that he’s able to look up at Yuta, “Are you addicted to taking photos of me?”

 

There’s something addicting about it, indeed, so Yuta laughs. Sicheng is going to boast one day about being his muse, and Yuta won’t have anything to contradict him. He’s more than a muse, however, because Yuta knows what’s behind the surface. “Yes,” he admits.

 

Sicheng doesn’t laugh, contrary to what Yuta is expecting. There’s seriousness in his eyes, a sober expression on his face. “Only me?” he asks weakly, vacillating, looking for reassurance.

 

It’s not the first time it happens. It was a surprise when Sicheng first asked such questions, but Yuta was ready for it and he is now, thanks to what Jaehyun revealed to him. Sicheng doesn’t expect to be loved for long, expects Yuta to get tired of him.

 

Yuta grasps harder the camera between his hands. “Only you,” he affirms, and Sicheng smiles at him. Yuta thinks he’s never going to see something so beautiful again, Sicheng sitting on the unwrapped boxes of their apartment, wanting to be his, and only his.

 

Sicheng is a light, a light so bright that obscures everyone else. So bright that he’s all Yuta can see.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for hurting Jaehyun. Or am I? /runs away/  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/renjucas)!  
> [Curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/berryboys)  
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